


Peg O'My Heart

by dsa_archivist



Category: due South
Genre: Drabble, Drama, Episode Related, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-11-23
Updated: 1999-11-23
Packaged: 2018-11-10 15:42:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11129811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dsa_archivist/pseuds/dsa_archivist
Summary: Why was a certain object so valuable in "The Promise?"





	Peg O'My Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived at [Due South Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Due_South_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Due South Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/duesoutharchive).
    
    
    DISCLAIMER:  Anything and everybody associated with due South belongs
    to Alliance, so please don't sue my sorry butt.  TYK!
    
    WARNINGS:  angst, lots o' angst!  Don't ask me why I love it!
    
    Snapshot...Peg O'My Heart
    
    copyright 1999 by M. Megan O'Neil 
    
    	"Do you have any ideas as to what happened?"	
    	"No sir, none at all."  The handsome young man ran a nervous finger
    over his eyebrow, still somewhat shaken up over what he had done.  "The
    house was already ablaze when I got there.  The woman was dead--"
    	"From the fire?"	
    	"No sir.  From what I could tell, it looks like she hit her head."	
    Papers were shuffled as a report was filled out.  "How did the fire start?"
    "I saw a broken kerosene lamp on the floor by the woman's body. Maybe
    it was knocked over when she fell."	
    	The older man grunted as he wrote in Sean's comments.  
    "Did you find out any information about them?"
    	The younger Mountie nodded, his face somber with the information he
    knew.  "From what Jack Ellis told me, the family is dirt poor, not much
    different than anyone else in this area.  He said MacBride worked off
    and on as a miner, drank to excess, and is pretty well known for abusing
    his wife.  And sir, her face was cut and bruised."		Sergeant Stephen
    Dell gulped his Scotch.  "Damn!  Sean, I hate cases like this!  It's
    bad enough an innocent woman had to die, but now we've got a kid involved."
    Constable Sean Thatcher looked down before shifting his glance to the
    bruised dark-haired little thing Elizabeth Dell was rocking in her arms.
    The little girl looked like a tiny Dresden doll, her big smoky eyes too
    large for her face.  She wouldn't stop shaking and she couldn't stop
    crying.  Her thumb in her mouth was her only source of comfort.
    	Elizabeth stared at her husband and his young second-in-command.  "What's
    going to happen to her?"	
    	Stephen looked back at his report, uncomfortable.  "She'll be picked
    up by Child Services within the next few days."	
    	"Stephen!"	
    	The Moutie looked at his wife in anger.  "What would you have me do
    Liza?  She has no relatives!  She's an orphan!  She needs a home!"	
    	Elizabeth Dell ran a soothing hand over a small back.  "But she's so
    young.  And the system is so crowded already."
    	Sean walked over to the little girl huddled in Elizabeth's lap.  "Hey
    honey.  Are you alright?"  
    	She was silent, still sucking on her thumb.  Her other hand was wrapped
    around a ridiculous piece of costume jewelry which had ripped off her
    mother's dress when Sean had been forced to literally tear her away from
    the woman's body.  He had heard what Liza Dell had said.  The system
    was already overcrowded.  No one was going to adopt an eight-year-old
    child.  He looked up at the older woman.  
    	"I'll take her."	
    	She smiled, relinquishing her adorable little bundle.  
    "You can put her to bed in the spare room at the top of the stairs."
    "Thanks."  He turned to his commanding officer.  "Sir, may I stay with
    her tonight? She may have nightmares and I'm the only one she's even
    come close to talking to."  
    	He didn't notice a speculative gleam in Dell's eyes. 
    	"Of course Constable.  Carry on."	
    	"Thank you sir.  Good night.  Good night to you ma'am."  He walked out,
    cradling the little girl as he whispered soothing sounds.
    
    				****
    
    	Stephen Dell looked lovingly at his wife.  
    "You've really fallen in love with her, haven't you?"  
    	She crossed the room to sit in his lap.  
    "Steve, you should have seen the cuts and bruises on her.  I think the
    father beat her as well."  She hugged him, shuddering at the thought
    of a maniac who could inflict such pain on a small child.  "She'll get
    lost in the system." 	He ran a soothing hand down her back.  "We'll think
    of something."				
    					****
    
    	Stephen Dell looked lovingly at his wife.  
    "You've really fallen in love with her, haven't you?"  
    	She crossed the room to sit in his lap.  
    "Steve, you should have seen the cuts and bruises on her.  I think the
    father beat her as well."  
    					****
    
    	Sean tucked her under warm quilts, rubbing her back in a soothing motion.
    She was still sucking her thumb, probably some form of comfort.  He sat
    next to the bed, drying the tears that were brimming over in her dark
    eyes.  Not having a child, he wasn't quite sure what to do.  Something
    his mother used to do came back to him.  Thatcher smiled, brushing away
    a dark wave.  	"The guy who helped me said your name was Margaret.  Do
    you know they have a song named after you?  Would you like to hear it?"
    
    	It was an eternity before she slowly nodded.  He smiled and picked her
    up, laying on the bed and letting her sit in the safety of his arms,
    singing in a beautiful Irish tenor.  As she fell into a nightmarish sleep,
    he took the brooch out of her small hand, placing it on the nightstand.
    He hoped to God he could think of something before they came to take
    her away.  He didn't want her passed around like an unwanted pet.		Margaret
    was shivering.  Sean Thatcher hugged the little girl tightly and continued
    to sing "Peg O'My Heart."
    
    


End file.
